Saintsville

by Brittani Louise Taylor

  “I can ask Jill?” Eve suggests, making a mental note.

  “Ugh. Jill. I can’t stand her….”

  Laughing, Eve responds, “You can’t stand anyone!”

  “This is true,” her sister admits, without a shred of shame.

  “We barely know her, Maggie. Don’t you think we should give her a chance before making up our minds?” That’s what Eve had decided—to reserve judgment until knowing all the facts. In their limited time spent with Jill during visits, she had always been loving and thoughtful.

  “Look, Mom cut her off for a reason. Our dearly deceased—we think—mother wanted nothing to do with her. So I think I’ll pass.”

  Stubborn to the core, Eve thinks, but Maggie does have a point. The trees start to thin out, revealing a small clearing. The house that comes into view as they approach is by far the biggest shock they’ve had all day.

  You could say it’s white? Mostly. At least, when you consider the paint that is still attached and not peeling. The windows are boarded up, and the gingerbread lattice is only intact on one side of the second-story balcony. At the very top is another large window, indicating possibly an attic of sorts. It’s the only window that’s been left untouched. This decrepit, quite possibly condemned, Victorian-style house is to be their new residence.

  Eve’s mouth drops open.

  Not blinking, the car idles as they sit gaping, unwilling to leave the safety of their car just yet.

  Shock.

  When Jill had said they would have a free place to live, this wasn’t what Eve had in mind.

  “No…I swear, if you make me get out of this car, I will cut up all your precious little books while you are sleeping! Did you not ask Jill to send you any pictures?” Maggie screeches, her cheeks as red as her locks.

  Too stunned to speak, Eve notices a second home set farther back to their right. Another two-story, white, run-down Victorian. They must have been built at the same time, at some point in the distant past. Architecturally, both structures are identical and currently competing in their state of disrepair.

  Both buildings have been abandoned and forgotten, and maybe they should stay that way. A massive fallen branch blocks the second driveway, daring anyone to venture closer.

  “Absolutely not.” White as a ghost, Maggie sits, rigid, close to a state of panic. Or fainting. Or punching Eve, hard. Likely all three.

  “Eve, I am going to turn around right now. We cannot…no, we will not be living here!” By the time she finishes her sentence, she’s yelling.

  The eldest Abbott secretly agrees, but they’ve reached a point of no return.

  Jill said she had the water and power turned back on. So maybe this structure is more appealing on the inside? Maybe Jill installed the boards on the windows to prevent squatters? There has to be a reasonable explanation.

  Gathering her courage, Eve ignores Maggie’s protests and gets out. A cool breeze causes her to shiver as she folds her cardigan across her chest, using the belt to tie it closed. It takes all of her willpower to get her legs to cooperate. The cracked taillights cast an eerie glow onto the dirt road as Eve pops open the rusty back end. Locating a pillow, backpack, and sleeping bag, she closes it once more.

  Frantically cranking her window down, Maggie leans out, her voice an octave higher when she yells, “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like I am doing? Grab your stuff.”

  Fishing the odd keychain out of her pocket, Eve studies it, waiting a moment for Maggie to join her. When she doesn’t, Eve sighs and heads toward the front door on her own.

  “You are freaking nuts, Eve! Come back here! Eve? Oh my God, you can’t be serious!”

  Relenting, Maggie also gets out and runs to grab a large bag and pillow from the backend, slamming it closed. Hurrying to the driver’s side and swearing the entire time, she takes out the keys and turns off the headlights as Eve switches on the flashlight on her phone.

  From the house. The other house. The forgotten house across the way, the closed curtains from a second-floor window part ever so slightly.

  A black-gloved hand holds the moth-eaten fabric open, just enough.

  It watches as the shadowed figures of two women shine thin lights through the night air, hurrying up the steps.

  It knows them.

  Eve and Maggie Abbott, daughters of Adel and Orion.

  They should have never come.

  The black gloved hand tightens its grip.

  They will meet soon enough. And when they do, everything will change.

  Chapter 4

  The aged door groans with displeasure as Eve pushes it open, shining her phone’s flashlight through the doorway. Particles that have been disturbed by their intrusion float through the air like a fog, only adding to the house’s already-ominous nature. She tilts her light to the floor, spotting multiple footprints through the grime. Thankfully, the prints look to be about Jill’s in size.

  Their aunt may be an excellent cook, but it is evident that she is horrible at cleaning. Or maybe she wanted to get in, and out of, this space as quickly as possible?

  If Eve asked the spiders who have turned the rafters into their webbed domain, they would probably tell her that no one had called this “home” in a very long time.

  Both sisters cautiously step into the large living room. After they have cleared the frame, Maggie reluctantly forces the creaking door shut, locates a deadbolt, and turns it with a thud.

  “Do you see any light switches?” Eve asks, scanning the room with her limited eyesight.

  “I only see a bad decision….” Maggie groans.

  “Stop complaining and start looking!” her older sister snaps, moving forward into the middle of the room. Huffing, Maggie does as she is asked, attempting to track one down herself.

  This dwelling, at one time, must have been lovely. The bones of it are—the tall ceiling and thick, dark wood floors. Decorative crown molding separates the walls from the ceiling. Looking to the expansive, now-boarded-up windows, they must have let in a ton of light.

  The room is empty, save for a substantial brick fireplace to their left, a built-in bookshelf with what appears to be a small jewelry box, and a chewed-up vintage sofa. Their footsteps echo, reverberating in the hollow space. Weathered floorboards squeak and crack with every stride.

  “At least we won’t have to install a security system? Even a ninja couldn’t cross these floors undetected!” Maggie smirks, shining her light in Eve’s face and temporarily blinding her.

  “Would you stop?” she grumbles, awkwardly swatting at Maggie while still holding all her necessities from the car.

  They continue to track down the elusive light switches with no luck. During one of their various phone calls, Jill had said that the power had been turned on prior to Eve and Maggie’s arrival. Eve remembers her stating this clearly. It is odd that a house like this would have modern amenities, like plumbing, electricity, and running water. But their grandmother had lived here until four years ago. She must have made some improvements. Right?

  Wallpaper, sporting blue and white flowers, is barely clinging to the walls, in some places folded down in half, no longer able to hold on to the exposed wood paneling.

  “If we are in a horror movie right now, tag, you’re the first one to die….” Maggie mutters, her voice croaking.

  “Let’s reserve judgment until morning. Who knows, we might be able to fix it up?” The lack of conviction in Eve’s words betrayed her.

  “Eve, dear, this house should be condemned. Bulldoze her down. Light her on fire. Who cares how you do it, but it needs to be done,” she insists, her tone mocking but serious.

  Maggie is probably right. But she also isn’t naive. She begrudgingly knows that this house, and this town, is the last option from a long list of alternatives they have already exhausted.

  Ignoring Maggie, Eve points her phone to the left, revealing a kitchen. Old cabinets, some with the doors partly or completely missing. Next, a retro
refrigerator partially hidden by a stained butcher block in the center. Then a rusty wood-burning stove. Everything in this place is out of date, out of style, or out of commission.

  Panning her phone to the right, Eve stops.

  There is a man right in front of her, his black hair slicked back and large sharp fangs extended.

  A vampire.

  Eve, startled, screams bloody murder, dropping her phone. She turns to grab her sister and escape but freezes as a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling fills the room with light. Maggie is next to the entrance wall, having found the switch.

  Pale, eyes wide, Maggie jumps as she sees the creature behind her older sister.

  Then she snorts.

  Laughing loudly and uncontrollably, Maggie points to the thing located behind Eve. Thinking her younger sister is under a spell, Eve whips around, only to get a good look at her assailant.

  A cutout. A life-size cardboard cutout of Count Dracula is situated right in front of the stairs, sporting a yellow sticky note. It reads, “wet paint on railings” in Jill’s distinct scrawl.

  “I take it back. This house is awesome!” Maggie wheezes, clapping her hands together.

  “Oh my God, that was terrifying….” Eve exhales, crossing her arms over her stomach. In part because she is suddenly freezing, and in part trying to hide the fact that she’s shaking.

  With the lights finally on, they both have a better view of the interior. Yes, it needs work, but it is obvious that Jill has been trying to spruce it up after hours. Paint cans with various used brushes and rollers are lined up below the banister.

  On the lower level are the living room, kitchen, and two other rooms situated on either side of the staircase. Taking the lead once more, Maggie explores the first room, on the left. Yelling from the interior, her voice echoes, “Nothing in here but rusty nails and tetanus!”

  Maggie joins Eve as she explores the second room, on the right, obviously being used for storage. Various boxes seem to be situated in a semi-circle, avoiding contact with a large, brownish-red stain on the flooring.

  “Does that…?” Maggie doesn’t finish her sentence before her sister interjects.

  “It does.”

  “Not just me?”

  “Nope.”

  “Does that smell like…?”

  “Metallic? Yup.”

  “Do you think this is where grandma kicked the can?” stepping back, Maggie wrinkles her nose in disgust. She continues, “Do you think if we asked Jill, she would give us a straight answer?”

  “Maggie, that’s horrible!” Eve exclaims.

  “She was murdered, Eve. Blood. Carpet. All that is missing is a chalk outline and some ‘keep out’ tape,” Maggie says casually.

  “Never coming in here again….” Eve mutters, quickly exiting the room. Maggie shuts the door and follows.

  They edge around Dracula and make their way up to the second floor. Two doors again, leading to two rooms on either side. Choosing left first, they’re pleasantly surprised when it reveals a decent sized bathroom with a clawfoot tub-shower combo, checkerboard subway tile, a sink with an etched mirror above it, and antique light fixtures. It was actually…cute.

  “Do you think Grandma was remodeling and ran out of money? Because this ain’t half bad!” Maggie throws down her backpack on the charming floor. Unzipping, she pulls out a toiletry bag, toothbrush, and toothpaste. Retrieving a hair tie as well, she arranges her curls into a messy bun. Maggie then leans over the sink, locates the hot and cold, and turns the “hot” knob on full. Flicking her fingers through the running water, she tests for the right temperature.

  “What? Are you gonna watch?” Maggie asks, squeezing toothpaste onto the bristles and plopping it in her mouth as Eve stands in the doorway.

  “You don’t want to see the rest of the house?” the eldest Abbott sister inquires, stumped.

  “Nope, I’m sleeping in the bathroom.”

  Eve knows that Maggie is more than likely serious.

  “Suit yourself.” Trying to sound confident, Eve backs away from the door, secretly wishing that Maggie hadn’t dismissed her and forced her to continue on her own. Taking a few steps, she notices rose-covered wallpaper, cream and pink this time. Still peeling and in disrepair, it has a certain sort of charm. The floors are the same style and shape as below, but they don’t crack and pop with every step. Locating another light switch next to a ladder, she flips it on. Looking up, there is a ladder that leads to a trap door—more than likely an attic. Deciding to explore the room on the right first, she’s instantly glad she did.

  Turning a dimmer knob near the entrance, another chandelier illuminates an almost-empty bedroom. This room—this room is Eve’s. In the middle of the back wall is a large bay window, and a pillow-less reading nook. Once the outside boards are removed, the panes of glass will fill the space with warm sunlight during the day. Hugging the window on either side are recessed shelves that will be perfect for her treasured literature. Taking a deep breath, Eve lets it out, sending it up to the high ceiling, framed by intricate floral crown molding.

  She feels like she’s in something out of a fairy tale.

  A new cast-iron bed with soft-looking pillows and blankets sits against the wall to the left. Fully expecting to have to spend the night in the sleeping bag she brought with her, Eve could cry.

  Jill. This has to be Jill.

  And then there’s a scream.

  Maggie.

  Startled, Eve drops her things and runs out into the hallway. Seeing light coming through the now-open trap door in the ceiling, she frantically climbs the ladder, sticking her head through the square opening. Spotting Maggie, she is surprised to see the massive smile plastered on her sister’s face.

  “Dibs! Dibs! I call dibs!” Maggie squeals, twirling in the center of the room.

  A vaulted ceiling with exposed beams frames two large glass windows on either end of the room. In the center, against the wall, another cast iron bed and bedding, duplicate to the one below. How Jill had gotten this bed into this room, and through that crawl space, is beyond Eve.

  Large metal sconces gleam, providing soft lighting.

  Climbing the rest of the way into the attic, Eve plops on to the floor, breathing labored.

  “Do you think we could put in another bathroom and, like, a kitchenette up here? Maybe add a set of stairs from the outside? Because then I could just shut this door and never have to see you!”

  Noticing the hurt look on Eve’s face, Maggie sobers. Biting her nails, she’s quiet for a moment before marching over to Eve and joining her on the floor. Scooting next to her, she leans her head on her older sister’s shoulder.

  “I think I’m going to like it here,” she whispers in her ear.

  “Me too.”

  Eve wonders if she means it. If she will ever feel safe here, and if this home will really be just that—a home.

  Or if maybe her instincts earlier were right—in that alleyway, when every fiber of her being was telling her to run.

  Chapter 5

  Jill gives the Abbotts a week to settle in. After that point, Eve will be required at the café, and Maggie will be just in time to start her fall semester at Saintsville High. Both girls have seven days of freedom until they will be locked down with obligations.

  Honestly, the girls wish that they could take the time to relax and explore, having already traveled so far, but making their new dwelling habitable is priority number one.

  And that priority is turning out to be way more than they bargained for.

  On their first morning, they decide it best to tackle the kitchen. Thankfully, the old blue 1950s refrigerator works, minus the arctic temperatures blasting anyone who dares open the freezer.

  Eve struggles, her cleaning towels already stained black from the counters. She doesn’t seem to be removing the dirt, just spreading it around, leaving muddy lines on the marble, further complicated by the clogged sink and a lack of a washer or dryer on the premises. The Abbo
tts will have no choice but to frequent the laundromat next to the market in town.

  Their aunt left them some milk and dried cereal, but after breakfast, they’re going to be on their own. Eve adds groceries to their many things to do that day, and if they want to eat anything hot, tackling the wood-burning stove is a must.

  Maggie jumps at the chance to hit anything with an ax, and being the more coordinated one, offers to chop some wood for their future meals. A natural, she has a decent pile stacked against the house in no time.

  Brushing her curls away from the sweat beading on her forehead, she gives the ax one last swing, lodging it back into the stump where she found it. Looking up and into the woods, she stops. From a distance, deep within the tightly spaced trees, she swears she sees something.

  A shadow.

  Tall, and dark, maybe belonging to a man? She blinks, and whatever or whoever it was is gone.

  Without hesitation, she wrenches the ax from the stump and raises it, lowering it slowly over her right shoulder. Gripping the handle tightly with both hands, she is ready to swing. Maggie turns her body to the side, making herself smaller as she takes on a defensive posture. Feeling somewhat safer with a weapon, she scans the woods.

  But with a loud screech, the back door of the old house opens.

  Startled, Maggie whips her head around, eyes ablaze.

  “Maggie?” Eve questions, her smile falling.

  “I’m not making you clean, no need to chop me up,” Eve teases, confused.

  Maggie doesn’t respond, turning her head back to the forest.

  “What is it?” Eve speaks again, her concern growing.

  There’s a pause before Maggie slowly lowers the ax. Making some unspoken decision, she turns and walks slowly over to Eve.

  “I saw something. Must have been an animal,” she grumbles.

  Not wanting to sound ridiculous, Maggie keeps what she thinks she saw to herself. They’re living in the wilderness after all, and more than likely sharing their surroundings with a multitude of wildlife.

  “I’m heading into town before everything closes. Want to join?” Eve inquires.